Say Something
by olympetownsend
Summary: Olympe Townsend meets K when they are in school. KxOC oneshot OOC K


Kevin Brown drummed his fingers against his desk, watching across the room with a blase look. It had happened again, it always happened. He never really regretted it when it did. The other kid started it- they tended to, and every time he made sure he was the one that finished it. But because he finished it, he wound up in here, and he knew that his father would be called in for another wordand he didn't want to have to explain what he knew was just the right thing to do. That's how you took care of bullies.

It was then that a young woman with her brunette hair up in a ponytail stepped into his line of view.

She took a seat at the desk, also looking bored as she adjusted her sweater. Her offense was much milder- she hadn't finished her homework for a class because she'd been busy with an actual job. Her expression was dull, but she wasted no time in taking out her books and started to look through them. If she couldn't get her work done before? She would now.

Kevin stared at her ponytail for about thirty full seconds, which she didn't notice much to his luck. The bow in her hair was impeccably tied, and even with a mirror it would have been hard to see what you were doing and make your hands work in the way you needed them to. But that bow was perfectly done and had survived the bulk of the day intact. It hadn't even slumped down.

He looked over towards the teacher; he was an older man, on the verge of retirement. His coffee cup always smelled a little "interesting", and his glasses kept sliding down his nose every time he tilted his head forward to grade papers. He seemed wrapped up in what he was doing so Kay took a risk, pulled out one of his sheets as quietly as he could, and wrote a quick note on it. Then again he watched the man up front like a hawk, and then there was a flicked, tightly-folded note that landed on the young woman's desk.

At first she thought it was paper thrown at her and she turned with a bit of an irritated look. But then she unfolded it, and in all caps at the top there was a question.

Did you do you fix your hair right before detention?

She mouthed the word "what?" to herself, and looked behind her again, more perplexed. But Kevin's face? It hadn't changed. He looked as serious as before. One glance to her, then their warden, then the girl again. As if to say, Who, me?It was just amusing enough that she resigned herself to an actual response. She scrawled something in pencil, tossed it back to him, refolded in a complicated way that he had to work out (not that he minded, he kind of liked puzzles).

I did it this morning.

She had pretty handwriting too. All of the letters were shaped the way they were supposed to be, rounded gaps were closed. Far neater than Kevin's, but because he didn't do it didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate it. Finally that solemn look broke as he bit up his lower lip between his teeth and wrote a response.

It looks nice. What's your name?

Again the sheet found itself on her desk, and she took it and tried not to laugh when she read it. It was one of those more difficult laughs; it wasn't that funny, really. A lot of boys hit on her, and she was used to it. This was just a little unusual. But the fact she was trying not to make the old man up front take notice was making her laugh even more, and she looked back at Kevin.

Serious face.

She turned away as fast as she could, sure she was going to lose it. Her eyes teared up with effort and self-control, and the most that escaped was a shaky waver that attracted a glance from the boy in thick-framed classes towards the back. The teacher glanced up at the slight interruption, and she pretended to yawn and go back to her workbook, waited a few beats for him to become engrossed in his pile of quizzes once more, and then wrote the response.

Olympe. And you're Slim. Everyone knows who you are, Slim.

What she got back in turn for that? Was a little less funny, and made her really sad for him. Because she realized he was right; she hadn't either.

No they don't. Nobody tries to.

She'd always gone off hearsay. She realized that she didn't know what his real name was, and that everyone had just called him Slim for forever. That skinny guy that would beat people up, and liked nice cars. That lanky kid that knew how to race and was good at finding trouble. But come to think of it, she didn't think she had ever seen him actually smile.

Kevin picked up the note from the floor when it narrowly missed his desk. He unfolded it, and then she finally got to see that smile.

I'd like to get to know you. You have nice hair, too.


End file.
